


My Dear, This is Our Song

by DeviWan



Category: Skulduggery Pleasant - Derek Landy
Genre: Death Bringer (Book 6) Spoilers, F/M, Gen, Me and Mrs. Jones, Valduggery - Freeform, Written before Book 7 and 8
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-18
Updated: 2014-04-18
Packaged: 2018-01-19 20:50:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1483453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeviWan/pseuds/DeviWan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Oh, dear,” he said. </p><p>Valkyrie nodded. “Oh dear is right,” she said. “It occurred to me, Mister Pleasant, that you did not ask for my hand at the Requiem Ball.”</p><p>She saw her partner hesitate and crossed her arms, raising a single, impressive eyebrow at him.</p><p>“I'm sorry,” he said at last, carefully.  “Were you expecting me to propose to you?”</p><p>“What?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Dear, This is Our Song

**Author's Note:**

> AN: Written immediately after Death Bringers, as you'll be able to tell, so spoilers up until that point.

It occurred to Valkyrie, quite suddenly and randomly on a Tuesday as she sat on a couch in Skulduggery’s living room, that she had not danced with him. At the Requiem Ball, that was. She frowned as she turned a page in the magazine she was reading, going through the memories of that night when Melancholia had nearly taken Skulduggery from her permanently.

She remembered meeting Dexter Vex for the first time. And she remembered the robbers that thought to rob the people of the ball and meeting Hansard Kray and his drunken father. Oh, and she definitely remembered the dance that Skulduggery and China shared, languid and graceful, like they were the world’s most exquisite dance partners. But nope. The Irish sanctuary’s two lead detectives did not share a dance.

Valkyrie huffed and snapped the magazine shut, though it failed to have any dramatic, in that the magazine was ancient and was all but falling apart in her hands. She threw it away from her with a grimace.

Across from her, Skulduggery paused in cleaning his revolver. He looked at her, and then tilted his head curiously at the magazine on his otherwise tidy, spotless floor.

“What did it do?” He asked in his deep, smooth voice.

“Nothing,” she replied.

“If you say so,” he said and focused his attention back to his revolver. When he didn't say anything else, Valkyrie glared at him through narrowed eyes and hoped very hard that he felt it. He didn't. Or maybe he did, but was just pretending that it didn't affect him. She knew that it was affecting him, though. Her glare was very impressive; she’d checked that it was all the time in the mirror. If Skulduggery wasn't showing that it affected him greatly, well that was only because he was bluffing. “Did _I_ do something wrong, Valkyrie?”

Valkyrie hid her glee behind a scowl.

“Not particularly, no. Why do you ask?”

“Well, and this is only a guess, mind you, I think you may be glaring at me. And might I say what an impressive glare it is.? I noticed it as soon as you directed it at me three hours ago. By the way you look exceptionally beautiful today.”

In the face of how truly ridiculous her partner was, Valkyrie lost the fight to keep her scowl in its place, and it fell from her face fondly.

“Firstly, I only started glaring at you a minute ago.”

Skulduggery paused in his cleaning again. “Oh.”

“Secondly, what do you mean I look beautiful today? Was I not beautiful yesterday, or the day before?”

Abandoning the task of cleaning his revolver altogether, Skulduggery set the weapon and the cloth down on the table in front of him and leaned back into his chair, defeated.

“Oh, dear,” he said.

Valkyrie nodded. “Oh dear is right,” she said. “It occurred to me, Mister Pleasant, that you did not ask for my hand at the Requiem Ball.”

She saw her partner hesitate and crossed her arms, raising a single, impressive eyebrow at him.

“I'm sorry,” he said at last, carefully.  “Were you expecting me to propose to you?”

“What?”

“Were you expecting me to propose to you?” He repeated patiently. “At the Requiem Ball? Is that why you are upset with me now?”

“What? No!” She uncrossed her arms and legs and sat forward in her couch. “I meant that you didn't ask me to dance with you! You didn't extend your hand to me for my permission to dance with you. That’s what people at fancy balls do. The guy holds his hand out for the girl’s hand and they glide onto the dance floor and dance the night away. That’s exactly what didn't happen to me.”

“Ah,” Skulduggery said. Carefully he chose his next words. “And… you’re upset now, months after the Requiem Ball, that I did not ask you to dance?”

“I was, but not any more.”

“Why is that?”

“I realised how stupid it was to be upset about it halfway through my rant.”

“Ah,” he said again, and Valkyrie noted how glad she was to hear relief in his voice. “Though, to be fair, if I had asked you to dance, everything would have changed. We wouldn't have gone to find Arthur Dagan and helped him out of the mansion and we would have been among those who were killed, however temporarily, by Melancholia. It would have led to half of the world’s population being murdered.”

“Yeah, okay,” she mumbled, slouching back in her seat.

“So you see, with all those lives hanging in the balance, I made the gut wrenching decision of not asking you to dance. Clearly, I was just as wise back then as I am now.”

“Are you quite done stroking your ego?”

“Well, I could go on…”

“No!” Valkyrie cried through her grin. “My God, you are such a goon. It’s a wonder the world hasn't imploded from the gravitational pull that your ego has, now that it’s big enough to be classified as a planet of its own.”

“It’s a wonder indeed.”

Valkyrie jumped from her seat and stretched.

“I'm going to make tea.”

“Go right ahead.”

She walked into the kitchen and proceeded to make tea without effort or thought. She knew this kitchen well, now. She knew where everything was and she could shut her eyes and would still be able to make tea. She was, after all, the reason why there was even a kitchen to begin with.

As she waited for the water to boil, she wondered why she was upset in the first place. She didn't really see the need to dance with Skulduggery. It was just that China did. China, who turned out to be the person who led Skulduggery’s family to their deaths. If there was anyone who deserved to dance with the skeleton detective, it was his loyal and loving partner. Not China. Not even if she had more history with Skulduggery than Valkyrie did.

Well, none of it mattered now. It was just a random thought that occurred to her in a time of boredom. She didn't need a fancy dance, not when she could spend every day with Skulduggery, detecting and catching bad guys.

When she returned to the living room, a cup of tea in one hand, she was in a much better mood.

‘Poor Skulduggery,’ she thought to herself ‘being on the receiving end of an emotional whiplash.’ She thought to apologise, but her partner showed no sign of it bothering him, so she shut her mouth and sipped her tea instead.

It was likely, very probably, that he was at the stage where he could compartmentalise it. After all, it was nearly this time of the month, last month, when she’d thrown her homework book at his head when he’d come to pick her up for a case, complaining of cramps and demanding that he leave her to her misery for a couple of days. Yep, very likely.

“Is there a case for us today?” She asked him. “Or am I just going to hang around your house all day?”

“Are you complaining?”

“God, no. It’s way better than being in school.”

“And when was the last time you were in school, and not your reflection?”

“Please,” she groaned. “Not this again.”

Sensing that he was dancing on dangerous territory again, Skulduggery retreated.

“You’re right, I'm sorry. You’re old enough now to make your own decisions. I shouldn't pester you.”

“Good,” she said, smiling. “Thank you.”

Skulduggery went back to silently cleaning his revolver, but Valkyrie could see the tense lines of his shoulders that suggested he was still on edge. She hid her smile behind her cup of tea. Her partner didn't make a habit of being easily intimidated by her. It just wouldn't be a partnership that way. But there were certain times when he knew that it was in his best interest to back off and not anger her. It came with the partnership. She’ll put up and accept his ego and troubled past and Lord Vile and he’ll accept Darquesse and that at a certain time of the month, he could not win.

Of course, this wasn't that time of the month, but she wasn't going to let him know that.

“Will you dance with me at the next Requiem Ball?” She blurted suddenly.

“Of course, dear,” Skulduggery said without a moment’s hesitation.

Valkyrie sat back in her seat and accepted the promise for what it was.

There was a chance that they wouldn't live that long. There was also a chance that Darquesse would emerge to rid the world of all living things. Anything could happen between now and the next Requiem Ball. Very likely, she would be killed.

But Skulduggery had faith.

He had faith that they would make it out of this disaster like they've done several times before. He had faith that she wasn't going to die.

And she’ll believe in his faith, if no one else will.

 

xxxxx

 

xxx

 

x

 

xxx

 

xxxxx

 

Nobody was more surprised than Valkyrie when the Requiem Ball was to be held at Gordon’s house again, ten years after the last one. Considering what happened last time, she thought they’d never want to go back to that place again, but they surprised her indeed when they formally asked for her permission. It was legally her house, after all.

This time around they could all relax and enjoy themselves. There was no impending disaster. No immediate threat.

Valkyrie had had her fill of tiny little food things on silver platters and, with a glass of champagne in one hand, was having a laugh with Erskine. She was older now, despite her youthful appearance, and thus was now able to listen as he and Dexter, who joined them later, told her the more scandalous tales of their older days.

“You wouldn't think he was that flexible, but you’d be surprised! Though, of course, for the sake off your sanity I hope you never have to catch him in that position,” Dexter said with a laugh that Valkyrie couldn't resist joining in.

“It _was_ traumatizing,” Erskine grumbled.

When she was able to catch her breath again, Valkyrie spoke. “Oh, I don’t know how to feel. Should we be speaking of poor Saracen like this?”

“Whatever do you mean?” Dexter asked, fluttering his eyes at her ridiculously.

“His back is turned to us and he’s not here to defend himself,” Erskine added. “This is the perfect way to speak of him!”

They laughed again and Valkyrie was more than aware of the attention they were getting. God, how they must have looked, three bumbling idiots –however respected and good looking- bent over laughing with a glass of champagne in a hand each, flushed to the cheeks with drunkenness.

Vaguely Valkyrie was aware of the room quietening and the sound of a piano starting a tune. The familiar feel of a bony, gloved hand on her bare shoulder stopped her laughter. Then, a deep, velvety voice next to her ear. “My dear, I believe this is our song.” And she could only move as Skulduggery’s hand lowered to her waist and he guided her to the dance floor. An amused Erskine took her glass from her hand.

“I don’t think we have a song, Skulduggery,” she said as she placed on hand on his shoulder and the other in his own. His hand on her waist drew her closer to him.

“Oh, but we do. You’ll see.”

They swayed to the music. When the singer on the stage moved up to the microphone and began singing, Valkyrie smiled widely.

 

_Me and Mrs. Jones_

 

Her partner said lowly, “This is our song.”

And as they danced, Skulduggery proceeded to sing to her.

His voice was much quieter than the singer with the microphone, but it was right next to her ear as he held her close, and he was all that she could hear. He was all that she was aware of. It was a different kind of dance to what she witnessed at the last Ball. Skulduggery didn't spin her about as he did with China. He didn't dip her and lift her. Here and now it seemed as if he wasn't going to let her go, ever. It felt as if he was going to hold her and sing to her until the Ball was over and everyone left. This was better.

 

_We meet everyday_

_At the same café_

_Six-thirty and no one knows she’ll be there_

 

Valkyrie shivered and Skulduggery only held her tighter.

 

_Holding hands and making all kinds of plans_

_While the Jukebox plays our favourite song_

 

Gently he spun her, his arms never leaving her. Now her back was to his front and his arms were all around her, his voice still right next to her ear. It was much more intimate… and still, he sung to her with his deep, lovely voice. She closed her eyes and leaned more of her weight onto the sharply dressed skeleton man behind her, trusting him with her whole heart.

She heard the music, but she did not hear the singer. Her singer was Skulduggery, and his voice was the loveliest one. There were other people dancing all around them, but she didn't pay them any heed. Skulduggery was the best dressed man, in her honest, unbiased opinion, in his tuxedo and bow tie. And she knew she herself was a sight to behold, in her deep navy, strapless dress to match Skulduggery. What a pair they must have been. The skeleton detective and his partner.

 

_Well it’s time for us to be leaving_

_And it hurts so much, it hurts so much inside_

_But now she’ll go her way_

_And I’ll go mine_

_But tomorrow we’ll meet_

_At the same place_

_At the same time_

 

She turned in Skulduggery’s arms and he dipped her, bending her dreadfully low. She wasn't scared, but she noticed that in this position, his face was impossibly close to her chest. Practically nuzzled in it. Slowly he pulled her up and sang the last line into her ear.

 

_Just me and Mrs Jones_

 

They didn't pull away for a long time, not even as the next song started, but when they did, it was with Valkyrie wearing a confident smirk and Skulduggery’s head tilted at quite a smug angle. The people around them parted a way for them as they moved off the dance floor with gazes both curious and amused. Distantly Valkyrie thought she heard Erskine and Dexter and Ghastly quietly clapping and cheering, but she couldn't be too sure. She only knew that Skulduggery hadn't yet let go of her hand.

 

It was just her and Mr Pleasant.


End file.
